The Journal
by Mikkino
Summary: A leather bound journal sits on a shelf, in a house, in England. Its legible pages contain a record. A record of the personal torments of a girl and the horrors she witnessed...


A leather bound journal sits on a shelf, in a house, in England. Its cover is a crisscross of scratches and scrapes, the shiny newness of it long since worn away. The pages are yellow with age, most too damaged to read. In some areas they have been torn out completely, or the text is written in a scrawl illegible to anyone save for the original writer. The remaining, legible pages contain a record. A record of the personal torments of a girl and the horrors she witnessed…

A Note

Before you begin reading this journal, let it be known that I continue to keep track of my life here for two reasons. First and foremost, so that I may maintain my sanity and what little sense of civilization I have left. Second, I hope that this may serve as a form of survival guide for any others unfortunate enough to be stranded here as I am. I will do my best to include tips, and if nothing else a realistic view of life on this island. Nothing within the confines of this journal will be sugarcoated, I can promise that.

Entry 1

There was a plane crash on my island today. It did a good deal of damage, frightening the animals and leaving a gaping scar in the forest. Worse still, it also left a group of schoolboys. The first one I spotted was a young boy; twelve years of age maybe, whose name is Ralph. He was wandering about on the beach at first, along with another boy in glasses. They managed to call the others using a conch shell. Reflecting upon it now, I believe the conch is a symbol of power and order for them. But I wonder, how long will this false sense of control last? These boys seem ill equipped to live here, and I do not think they will last long. It is all a game to them. The magnitude of their situation has not struck them, and I wonder if it ever will. I also do not appreciate the ruckus they are causing on my island. The inclination towards unnecessary destruction and noise is staggering.

I have been here a long time. Too long. Despite my experience, I am hesitant to try to help them. They will not listen to the one called Piggy, which would be the wisest course of action, so why would they listen to me? For the time being, I will simply sit back and watch from the safety of the trees and the forest. I do not expect things to go well.

Daily survival tip: Never approach a group of potentially hostile strangers. Assess the situation first, and then act using sound judgment. Look before you leap.

Entry 4

I watched the "littuns", as they are called, today. Purposefully destroying sand castles and tossing stones at each other, I have come to the conclusion that small children are the most feral of human beings. Whether they are stranded on an island or not. When they are upset, they cry. When hungry, they eat without reserve. When angry, they will not hold back. They are selfish creatures, not much better than little animals. Still, I cannot say I blame them for behaving the way they do, as they do not know any better. No, the truly savage and childish one is Jack Merridew, and I must say I rather loathe him. His inability to think ahead and his excitement towards ending the life of a living being is sickening. He was so caught up in hunting down the pigs that he allowed the fire to be left unattended. Foolishness such as that in this dire time will get these boys nowhere.

There is a cruelness within Jack's heart. I see it in his pleasure in killing, and his oppressiveness towards Piggy. And it is out of fear of this cruelness, of this darkness that sleeps in all of us, that I decided not to approach them. I predict that it is only a matter of time before that darkness festers, and grows and spreads like a slimy mold. The boys have already begun to fight with one another. There is little for me to do but watch.

Daily survival tip: Be on the lookout for psychopaths, and check yourself daily to be sure you are not becoming one. If you find that killing your last meal made you a little too giddy, it may be time to step back and take a few deep breaths.

Entry 5

I have never much liked people in general. No, I am not a sociopath. I find human beings tolerable, but for the most part I prefer solitude. Perhaps that is why I have not gone mad on this island. I kept a few close friends at home, friends who I adored. They must all think me dead by now. But I digress. Returning to the topic of troublesome people, they are making an even bigger mess of my island. As though setting flame to the forest weren't enough, the little ones are doing their business wherever they please now.

Ralph is a leader I find no trouble respecting. The trouble, however, lies in the fact that the boys refuse to neither take him seriously nor heed his warnings. They will not take anyone with an iota of sense in them seriously. I must say that I admire Ralph for his patience. Without him, they would all be lost. Without him, there would be no signal fire.

Simon is another who finds little respect or understanding with the other boys. I sense in him a kindred spirit. He spoke of the "beasty" as being something that is within us. He knows of it, just as I do. As expected, he received only silliness as a response upon expressing this. I find myself feeling empathy for this boy. If no one else, I wish to help him, and I almost felt compelled to approach him. Almost.

Daily survival tip: Do not use your water or food sources as lavatories. It causes diseases that you likely do not possess the medicine to cure. Keep these resources clean and alive at all costs; they are your means of survival.

Entry 8

I am more certain of my fear of Jack now than before. But it is not he alone that I fear. Alone, he is simply a mad child. It is he and his followers. It is the fact that Jack, savage terror that he is, has the support of the other boys. The idea that they should even think of following him is ludicrous, and yet they do, like sheep. Perhaps it is because they are frightened. They are speaking of another "beasty", going so far as to refuse to go near the signal fire. This beast is not a beast at all. It is a sign from the world I used to reside in. It tells me other humans are passing by this island, meaning that there is still a chance of being rescued. It also tells me that neither these boys nor the adults can settle their disputes.

What frightens me most was bearing witness to the brutal killing of that sow. Jack and his followers have even gone so far as to begin to leave tributes for the supposed beast. They chopped off her head when they were done with her, and left her head on a stick as tribute. It is equivalent to a tribe sacrificing to a false god.

And Simon, the poor dear. He collapsed after witnessing the slaughter of the pig at the hands of Jack and his hunters. Its blood and organs were spilled over the beautiful place Simon used as a safe haven. They have no respect for things that are beautiful in this world. Nothing is sacred to them.

I swore I would not, however… I came out from my hiding place and sat by Simon, keeping the flies and the sun off him as best I could. I stayed until he began to wake, at which point I retreated, and left no traces of my presence.

Daily survival tip: It is not cowardly to avoid things that your instinct tells you to. Forget everything you know about the glorified ideas of bravery society has taught you. You must choose: live as a supposed "coward", or die for being idiotically fearless.

Entry 9

I saw the boys chanting before Simon did. I knew they were beyond hope, beyond all reason and rationality. In that moment, each and every one was a savage unable to be controlled. For the second time, I broke the promise I made to myself. I stopped Simon, asked him not to go to the others. To my surprise, he did not seem shocked at my appearance. But he did not heed my warning, either. He insisted that the others must know that there is no beast. I say they are fools for not figuring that on their own, but he ran off and tumbled out into the circle of savages before I could get another word in.

I knew it was too late. To try to help him then would have been suicide, or the tribe of boys would have thought me a monster, too. I could do nothing but watch. Part of me hates myself for it. For doing nothing.

In Simon's dying moments, I sat by him on the beach. No words were spoken. I only held his hand, hoping that the expression on my face would say everything that words could not. That I was sorry. That it was going to be alright. That I would rather have seen any of the others die but him. That I was a friend, one who understood and did not think him strange. Because I, too, am strange. For the first time in what felt like forever, I did not feel alone. And I hope that he did not, either.

Daily survival tip: Do not become emotionally attached to others… It will likely only end in tragedy…

Entry 12

The day of rescue finally arrived. When I emerged from the burning forest upon seeing the navy officer, the boys paid me no mind. I suppose they were busy being in shock. I will never be able to live life as I had before this incident. I have seen and experienced too much. Returning to structured society will seem terribly strange and different to me, I am sure. However, it will be a welcome change. I have seen the beast at its worst, and I know it now more than ever. If I did not distrust people before, I do now. Never will I be able to see these seemingly innocent schoolboys as anything other than sleeping savages waiting to be set loose. The beast lies within all of us, and I am afraid. I fear myself, and the darkness that I know is within me as well. I fear the darkness in others. I fear that I may never trust again.

Daily survival tip: Young or old, there is no such thing as a human being who is pure.


End file.
